


Silver Wizard

by ViolinCameos



Category: Sherlock (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (a little bit), Bromance, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, Crossover, Doctor Strange (2016) Spoilers, Evil Mycroft Holmes, Fantasy, Infinity Gems, Loki (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Post-Thor: The Dark World, Saving the World, Science Fiction, Sherlock Holmes vs Dr. Strange, Sherlock is a Damsel in Distress, Sherlock is out of his depth, Thanos is a Jerk, Thor: Ragnarok (2017) Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 10:48:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14932805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViolinCameos/pseuds/ViolinCameos
Summary: A bizarre case leads to Sherlock getting tangled up with Amora, the Avengers, and the Aether. After the Avengers rescue him, the young detective notices something strange: his body is changing, becoming more and more powerful due to the Aether living within him for longer than thought possible. Is his new magic for better or worse? Sherlock won't admit it, but he's pretty scared!





	1. A Mild Case of Sorcery

Sherlock sighed. “No, Lestrade, no more dull cases!”

“This isn’t your run-of-the-mill assignment, Sherlock. Six people have disappeared without a trace. No note, no anything - it’s like they vanished into thin air! We’ve practically scoured London looking for them, but it’s no use.”

“Well, obviously you haven’t scoured like you say so, or you wouldn’t be coming to me now, hmm?”

“Who are the people we’re looking for?” John interjected. Lestrade gave him the folder containing files of the missing persons. Sherlock peered over John’s shoulder. The vanished were all male, ranging from eighteen to forty years old, with considerable skill in construction or engineering. Each had been seen walking home from work on the days they disappeared but had never reached their destination.

“Kidnapped.”

John turned to him. “You think so?”

Sherlock frowned. “What do you see, John?”

“Ah, well… They’re all skilled engineers or laborers, none of whom have any sort of criminal past. My guess is someone wants to build something and needed help, but couldn’t exactly advertise it because it was illegal. The suspect knew they wouldn’t freely aid him, so… he kidnapped them.”

“She, you mean.”

“What makes you think that?”

Sherlock sighed. “The suspect had to have lured them away, there was no evidence they left behind of any struggle of some sort. A woman would have done the trick since men can often be made to be controlled by their desires.”

“There’s a problem with that, however,” Lestrade cut in. “Most of these men are- or were- married. We interviewed all their families. They’re all faithful.”

“Hmm. And what about the bachelors? Any girlfriends? Boyfriends? Familial connections?”

“None of these men were liable to just disappear, Sherlock.”

Sherlock nodded. “Kidnapped, then. I’m afraid this isn’t enough to go on. I need more evidence, Lestrade, or at least a witness’s account.”

Lestrade sighed. “Very well, then. We’ll contact you when we have more information.”

 

* * *

 

After the DI left, Sherlock paced the sitting room, his mind picking at the problem. Maybe Moriarty was playing more games with him - although he had no proof whether it was the psychopath or not. He mentally ran over the missing persons files. _Hmm. Where’s the link…. Oh._ “Power containment.” 

“Sorry, what?”

Sherlock whirled around. “Think about it, John! Where do these people work?”

“Um, well, the engineers work at different nuclear power plants, while the construction workers work for companies that… supply those plants….” he trailed off. “Oh. Maybe it’s not power containment, Sherlock, maybe our suspect-“

“Is building a bomb,” Sherlock finished. “And with the access the technicians have to radioactive materials-“

“London could be in danger. Or any other place in the world, for that matter.”

Sherlock slammed his fist in the wall in frustration. “Dammit! I need more info!” _I hate being stumped!_ he mentally added, but both men knew this, so it was pointless to voice it.

“Well, at least let’s try to figure out who could be the target,” John suggested. “I may not know anything about nuclear containment, but I’m not sure the suspect’s roster is complete yet. We’ll have to wait and see what he- she, I mean- does next.” He paused. “D’you think it’s Moriarty?”

“I briefly entertained the idea, yes.”

John nodded and yawned. “I’m going to bed, then. Like a normal person.” And he tramped off to his bedroom.

Sherlock watched him go and wondered, _What if one of us was the next target?_

 

* * *

 

 _Finally, a witness!_ Sherlock thought giddily as the cab raced to the scene where the seventh worker was last seen. As soon as the detective and army doctor arrived, Sherlock made a beeline for the witness, a middle-aged women who sat on a crate in front of a relatively empty alleyway. When she saw him, she gave a cry of relief. “Oh, thank heaven, it’s Mr. Holmes!”

“I need to know what happened exactly as you remember it, ma’am,” Sherlock said.

“Yes, right. Well, I was walking along this very sidewalk. And there was this young man in front of me. He, um, sort of stopped in front of this alleyway and looked in, like there was something unusual in there. He went in and I followed him.” She paused.

“Yes, keep going,” Sherlock encouraged.

“There… there was this beautiful young woman. With long, blonde hair. And she was, um, tall. About six foot. She was decked in a long green gown, very expensive, and some golden jewelry. And, um… she took hold of the man’s wrist and poof! Both of them disappeared!”

The brunette detective frowned. The woman didn’t seem to be on any drugs or alcohol…. “Did you notice anything strange about the air?”

The woman laughed. “The air? Of course not, dear! Although it felt kind of… shimmery… when the two vanished.”

Sherlock shook his head and made his way toward Lestrade, Anderson, and Donovan. “Have you scanned for hallucinogenic gas, Detective Inspector?”

“Already did,” Anderson replied. “That woman has lost her marbles, probably had a nervous breakdown.”

“Shut up, Anderson, you’re bringing in the stupid yet again,” Sherlock growled.

Lestrade interrupted. “There’s no trace of any such gas, Sherlock. The woman seems to be perfectly fine, although she’s pretty shaken. Her story’s all we’ve got to go on.”

“No, no, there must be something you’re missing! People don’t just randomly disappear, Lestrade, there has to be something in the alleyway that can give us a lead!” Sherlock brushed past the little group, John following, and swept into the narrow alley.

His keen senses probed every nook and cranny, leaving nothing unseen. Too engrossed in his perusal, he stopped abruptly in front of the wall at the end. He looked back towards John, who stood near the entrance. _Well, that’s disappointing,_ he thought-

“Well, well, well.”

Sherlock whipped around at the unfamiliar voice and gave a start. In front of him stood the very woman the witness had described!

“Sherlock Holmes. Midgard’s greatest detective.” The woman smirked. “I have to admit, your skills don’t really live up to all the- what do you call it?- hype. Although your features are… shall we say, surprisingly exceptional.”

“Oh?” Sherlock’s mind was stuck on a single detail. _Midgard?_

“No, darling. Just appraising. It confuses me why you don’t have women falling at your feet.” She hummed. “Get out much?”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her. What was her play? _Her speech is a bit off…._

“Never mind that. I’ve got things to do, so I’ll just get out of your way.” The woman turned as if to leave, and on an impulse Sherlock grabbed her wrist. Suddenly, he felt a great pulling sensation in his stomach and wind whipping around him, John’s shouts fading away into silence. His head swirled and black spots danced before his eyes. He let go and fell….

_Thud!_

“Ngh…” Sherlock moaned, his vision swimming with darkness. He closed his eyes- and realized he was lying on the ground. The silence around him was thick and suffocating.

The brunette opened his eyes and sat up, blinking away the wooziness, and surveyed his surroundings. _Filthy walls, plenty of dust, bits of blacktop crumbles and rusted metal…_ He stood up and gazed around, keen mind taking in details….

_Wait._

_Wait._

_I’m not in the alleyway anymore._

A trickle of fear slid down his spine, making him shudder. He forced down the rising panic and tried to remember everything that had happened. _I could have been drugged- but I never felt a prick, and nothing sprayed my face…._ The woman must have known he was coming, had set the whole thing up. She must have had him dosed with _something_ , activated by his touching her skin, and had him carried off to this abandoned factory to dispose of him.

_In broad daylight? With the police about? Not likely!_

_I wonder…. How long have I been gone? That should give me a clue as to what happened, it was about 3:41 when we arrived at the crime scene and 3:46 when I grabbed that woman’s wrist._

Sherlock sighed and pulled out his phone, turning it on.

And started. The screen read 3:48.

_W… what???_

_But that’s impossible! I couldn’t have been gone only two minutes!_ Sherlock trembled. _No… no, that’s… she couldn’t have messed with my phone…. or did she?_ He frowned and unlocked his phone, scanning through to make sure everything was fine. Nothing was out of the ordinary; even the date and time zone were correct. He huffed. _There’s only one way to find out what happened._

 

* * *

 

John couldn’t believe his eyes. His best friend, standing and talking to a woman that fit the witness’s description only two minutes ago, and then him and said woman vanishing into thin air! He shook his head. _Sherlock, you better be all right or I will kill you if that woman doesn’t first!_

His phone rang. The doctor frowned and pulled it out- and immediately answered. “Sherlock! Sherlock, are you there?”

 

* * *

 

“John! Oh, thank goodness!” Sherlock had never been more relieved to hear his friend’s voice. “Where are you?”

“Where are _you?_ You disappeared right before my eyes! I’m still in the alleyway and the police are going nuts!”

“All right, listen. How long have I been gone?”

John looked at his watch. “Only a couple of minutes, Sherlock.”

Sherlock bit his lip. _Once you have ruled out the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be true._ But he wasn’t sure he wanted to believe in magic just yet.

“Sherlock? Are you still there, mate?”

“Yeah, I’m still here. I think one of the things our suspect has been working on is… teleportation.”

He could practically hear John’s jaw drop. “Teleporta- Sherlock, are you sure?”

“I have to find out. I’ll call you later. In the meantime, I’ll see what I can dig up in this facility-“

John cut him off. “Where _are_ you?”

“Abandoned warehouse. Can’t find any identifying details just yet.”

“All right. Keep me posted.”

“Will do.”

Sherlock hung up and glanced around once more. Sliding his phone into his coat pocket, he set off towards the faint, flickering light at the end of the hall.

 

* * *

 

About fifteen minutes into his search, the young detective spotted a set of closed double doors through the cracks of which emanated a soft red glow. He slipped in and stopped short in surprise. Before him stood a tall, rectangular black pillar made of a strange stone he had never seen in his life. The top half of the pillar was suspended a few inches above the bottom half seemingly through a magnetic field generated by the red substance in the gap between. Mesmerized, Sherlock crept closer and leaned over to examine the mysterious red blob. _This must be the power source,_ he reasoned. _But I’ve never seen a power source that’s fluid! What exactly is this woman trying to do? Why would she be working on alternative forms of energy without legitimate aid? Perhaps she tried to acquire said aid and all her potential sponsors felt the project was too dangerous? But how does the teleportation fit in? And why was her speech strange?_

_Too many questions, not enough data._

He heard a soft whispering and closed his eyes, concentrating. A moment later he realized the sound came from the luminous fluid and opened his eyes. He didn’t notice his hand reaching for the crimson until he felt a sharp heat in his hand. He gasped and glanced down as the red liquid shot through his hand, up his arm, and into his body. Overwhelmed by the sudden rush of power flowing through his body, he fell to his knees and swooned.

 

* * *

 

 _He lay back, suspended in midair, surrounded by red and fluid and power. He felt it flowing around him,_ **_through_ ** _him, flowing on and on…._

 

* * *

 

 Cold, hard ground.

Sherlock opened his eyes. Bit by bit, everything sharpened and came into focus. He realized he was lying on his side where he had fallen in front of the containment pillar. He blinked and sat up slowly, glancing around. _How long have I been out? Were there any alarms raised?_ He looked down at his hand and sucked in a breath at the momentary red glow flowing in his veins.

 _I… I… absorbed their source of power! I’ve gone radioactive!_ Sherlock panicked. _I’ll be sent to quarantine, and I doubt I’ll live long enough for the doctors to extract this from my body, and even if they get it out in time, I’ll still have radiation poisoning, and I probably won’t be able to go near John or Mrs. Hudson or Molly ever again and_ ** _Sherlock get your_** ** _damn_** ** _self under control!!_**

The young detective paused in his internal freak-out session ( _Dear me, what is wrong with me today? I haven’t been able to keep my emotions under control ever since I got here!_ ) and took a deep breath, letting his stress out. _Okay. Think logically about this. That’s what you’re best at, isn’t it? Figure out a plan and carry it out._

He stood up and brushed off his coat. _First things first, I have to get out of here. And maybe I should update John on my situation._ He pulled out his Blackberry and turned it on. _10:55! I’ve been out for hours!_ The screen showed thirteen texts and two missed calls, all from John. Sherlock bit his lip. He opened Maps, but the app gave him an error message. _Great. Interference from whatever freakish substance is running through me. What else could go wrong?_ He then went to his contacts list and selected John’s profile. Just as he pressed the call icon, his phone died.

_I had to ask._

Sighing, the brunette pocketed his now-useless phone and set off toward the double doors, slipping noiselessly through them for fear of being discovered.


	2. Artifacts and Geniuses Don't Mix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After running afoul of a certain red artifact, Sherlock promptly gets into a scrape and has to rely on two new... people... to get him out.

“I don’t think you should come, brother.”

The raven-haired man frowned. “I am an expert in this matter! Please, this is a dangerous artifact! If it’s in that woman’s hands-“

“Honestly, brother, I wish I could trust you as much as I want to,” the blond interrupted, “but I don’t. And what if you’re seen? I can’t have my friends detecting you, they’ll think I lied.”

The younger man shrugged. “Couldn’t you simply tell them the truth? I mean, they do trust you, yes?”

“Never thought I’d hear you say that in all my life.”

The raven bowed his head, a tear slipping out onto his pale cheek. “I know. I’m sorry.”

 

* * *

 

Sherlock ducked behind a pile of crates just as two guards entered the huge chamber. He peered out from behind the wooden crates just enough to catch a glimpse of the goons, curious to know what they looked like since they were the first ones he had seen thus far. His jaw dropped when he saw how enormous they were - they towered easily over him and bulged with copious amounts of muscle. _They could snap me in half like a toothpick,_ he thought. _But no ordinary human could grow this large! And there are two of them! Although now that I think about it, that woman was rather tall as well. Perhaps they’re all related?_ But what he could see of them through the Nordic armor didn’t suggest any familial connections. _Hmm…_

“Keep your eyes peeled. He could be anywhere,” the red-haired guard warned his partner. The blond one snorted.

“It’s just a simple Midgardian! What harm could he do to us?”

_What harm, indeed._

“From what I heard, he doesn’t even come close to the dark prince, and he was one of the weakest warriors the battlefield has ever seen! In my opinion, there’s no need to worry about the little gnat!”

“But also like the dark prince, he’s extremely intelligent-“

_Thank you!_ thought Sherlock.

“-so we have to be careful in case he pulls a trick or such like.”

“Can a human really be that intelligent?” the blond guard wondered.

“Amora thought so. At least, she did until she met him. It’s rumored that he’s the greatest criminal investigator in the realm or something of the sort.” The redhead glanced around. “Apparently he faked his own death in front of his dearest friend, who happens to be a healer! Anyone who can do that must surely be a genius!”

Despite himself, Sherlock cracked a smile. So these people, whoever they were, knew that aspect about him and were frightened by it. Well, at least the redhead, anyhow. The blond seemed to think he was just as stupid as everyone else. _What to do, what to do… play dumb or get smart?_ he debated.

_How about get out of here instead?_ With that thought, he slunk towards the door the guards had come through, keeping his eye on the two men all the while. Just as he reached the halfway point, the redhead turned and spotted him.

“There he is! Quick, get him!”

_Just my luck._ The young detective broke into a run; the guards hollered after him and followed. He glanced behind, and his eyes widened. They were nearly on top of him!

“Grab him! Now!”

Giant paws seized his arms. Sherlock felt mysterious energy shoot through his body and explode outwards. It flung the guards back and threw him forwards, and he hit the wall and fell on the floor. He lay there, his strength sapped.

_What… what just happened?_

“He’s stolen the Aether! Alert Amora!” the redhead cried.

“On it!” his companion responded.

_I need to get up…._ Sherlock rolled over and struggled to his feet, using the wall to steady himself. _I need to get out of here…._

He ran as fast as he could, dodging guards and slipping through rooms until he burst out into the fresh night air. And into a crowd of guards, all armed to the teeth with maces, spears, and axes.

The brunette paled and gulped. Physically, he’d already lost. Mentally, he was running out of ideas. As the biggest brute took a step towards him, he bit his lip. _Maybe I could talk my way out? Although if Amora knows about me and wants me dead, I don’t have much to go on._

_Let’s try anyway._ Sherlock raised his hands beside his head. “Um, so sorry, fellows! I’m afraid I haven’t got the faintest idea where I am or how I got here, so if you could direct me to the nearest phone box, I’ll be on my way!”

The leader glared at him and raised his mace. “KILL HIM!” he thundered. He swung his mace down on the young man.

This time Sherlock saw the red energy blast out of his body and throw the attacker into the crowd as he fell to the ground, clinging to consciousness. _I… I don’t understand…. What’s happening to me??_ The angry yells of the crowd drew closer.

“Get back! Get back, you mongrels! Stay away from this poor man or you will find yourselves in the Underworld!” a man shouted above him. Sherlock blinked and found himself face-to-face with the most brilliant pair of green eyes he had ever seen in his life. The face above him gave a gentle smile. “It’s all right. You’re safe now.”

“Wouldn’t say that yet, brother,” a blond man replied. Sherlock did a double-take- the man was floating in the air, suspended from a hammer he twirled above his head!

_Great. Now I know I’m drugged._ He felt slender arms slip around him and the air blurred….

 

* * *

 

“There. Now you are no longer in their grasp,” the cultured voice told him.

Sherlock sat up to get a better view of his smiling rescuer. _Pale skin like mine, sharp cheekbones, wavy raven hair, and those kind yet haunted emerald eyes…_ “Who are you? How did you find me?”

The man’s smile faltered. “Y… you don’t know who I am?”

“No, but I would appreciate it if you could answer me.”

The young man gave a silvery chuckle. “To the first question- I’m a bit surprised you didn’t recognize me. As for the second… well, I don’t quite think you would believe me, Mr. Holmes. Although you didn’t seem disturbed when I teleported just now.”

“Wait, teleported?!” Sherlock sat bolt upright. Sure enough, they were a block away from the compound. The detective looked the other man in the eye. “So you’re related to this Amora? Why did you save me?”

“Related? No, no, no, you’ve got it all wrong! My brother and I came to retrieve the Aether! Of course, now that you’ve got it inside you…” The young man sighed. “If only it had stayed put, we wouldn’t have to deal with this mess.”

“I didn’t touch it intentionally,” Sherlock retorted. The raven shook his head.

“That’s not what I meant. You must realize, none of this is your fault - it’s all Amora’s doing. She stole the Aether, after all.”

“I see. I don’t suppose you could teleport me to Baker Street, then? My best friend is likely going to kill me for being away so long without giving him a sign that I’m not dead.”

The man frowned. “I wish I could, but because you’re housing a powerful artifact within your body, you’ll have to come with my brother and me to a secure facility where we can extract it. But don’t worry, we’ll notify your friend of your whereabouts.”

“Couldn’t you just teleport this… Aether… out of my body?”

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple. You see-“

The blond man landed beside them just then. “Get us to headquarters!”

“But-“

“NOW!” the blond roared. The raven nodded and grabbed hold of Sherlock and his arms. The air blurred again…

…and Sherlock found himself standing in a sharp, clean room, surrounded by several men and two women who hurriedly drew various weapons and aimed them at the trio. He glanced at each of the new people, reading them.

_Short man with bow and quiver- assassin. Redhead with wrist gauntlets- also assassin. Brunette with goatee and mechanical glove- inventor, going by the slight grease stains under his nails. Timid brunette with glasses- scientist. Tall, muscular blond with a modern haircut- soldier. I haven’t the faintest idea who the bald red-skinned man is- cosplayer, perhaps? The other woman is Eastern European, seen some trauma…. not sure what she does for a living. Maybe model?_

The short goatee-man took a threatening step toward the trio. “Thought you said Reindeer Games was gone for good, Point Break.”

“Stand down, Tony.” The red man blocked the inventor with his arm. “His intentions are harmless. He didn’t come here to cause trouble.”

The raven-haired man stared at the yellow stone embedded in the red man’s forehead, frightened. He whimpered. The blond with the hammer patted him on the back.

“Calm down, brother, he can lift Mjolnir.”

Sherlock started. “Wait, Mjolnir?! As in the mythical Norse hammer?” _Why did’t I make the connection earlier?_

“Geez, isn’t it obvious, dude?” the archer griped.

The young detective faltered. “But- I don’t understand- it’s just a myth-”

A look of realization crossed Tony’s face. “Oh. Oh, shoot. You have no idea who we are, do you. Seriously, Holmes, you’ve never heard of the Avengers?” The archer muttered something about “got over that quick.” The inventor rolled his eyes. “Shut up, Barton, I’m trying to talk to this guy!”

“The Avengers are a fictitious group of comic superheroes,” Sherlock replied. The archer scoffed.

“Sure. And Sherlock Holmes is a fictional character created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.”

The tall brunette narrowed his eyes. “You know my name and think I don’t really exist?”

“What do you think you’re doing to us, pal?”

Sherlock bit his lip. “I’ve got to still be comatose,” he murmured. The others laughed, except for the raven-haired man, who gave him a sympathetic look.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Holmes, this must be a lot to take in at the moment,” he said, “what with the Aether and all.”

“Aether? You mean the mystical red stuff that was partly why Dark Elves invaded London a few years ago?” asked Tony. He turned to Sherlock. “I wasn’t there for any of it, but sorry about that whole mess anyway. Um. Yeah. That’s not good. We need to get that out of you as soon as we can.”

Sherlock’s head spun, and he felt faint.

“Um, excuse me?” the raven piped up. “Could we please get Mr. Holmes a room? I’m sure he’s had a rather trying day and is very exhausted.”

“Right. You three, follow me. Tony, Natasha, keep Clint restrained until we get Loki to a safer room.” The soldier turned and strode out the door with the trio behind him.

“I wasn’t exactly throwing myself at him, if you couldn’t tell!” Barton shouted after him.

 

* * *

 

As they walked, the blond introduced himself. “Steve Rogers. It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Holmes.”

“Um, thank you.” Sherlock fell into step with him. “Afghanistan or Iraq?”

Steve frowned, confused, then laughed. “Oh. That. Right. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

“World War II.”

Sherlock’s eyebrows shot up. “Impossible! You should be dead or in old age by now!”

Steve chuckled. “Ever hear of the super soldier serum?”

“No. Why would I?”

“It enhances human metabolism and provides a person with superhuman strength, speed, agility, resilience, and aging resistance. Actually, I shouldn’t be too surprised you’ve never heard of it, considering you probably either don’t read comics or hack into SHIELD on a regular basis.”

“SHIELD… I believe Mycroft may have mentioned that once. He said it was some form of peacekeeping organization.”

“Yeah, I think I might have seen him around HQ a couple times. Tall, brown hair with receding hairline, sharp-dressed, kinda portly guy, really intelligent.”

Despite his agitation and faintness, Sherlock smirked. “That’s Mycroft all right.”

“Steven?” the other blond interrupted. “If you don’t mind, after Mr. Holmes is settled in, could you direct my brother and me to a safe room where Clint cannot obtain access? Or anyone else who wishes to bring him harm, for that matter.”

“Sure, no problem,” the super soldier replied.

“Thank you.” The other blond then turned to Sherlock. “You may have already guessed, but I am Thor Odinson, prince of Asgard. Forgive me for not introducing my brother and myself earlier - after all, we were attempting to get you out of that rather sticky situation.”

“I… see,” Sherlock murmured. “And you are who he calls his brother?” he asked, addressing the raven. “You can’t be related, you’re two completely different individuals.”

“I’m adopted. My name is Loki. Loki Laufeyson.”

Sherlock raised his eyebrows. “The trickster god?”

“We’re not gods, you know,” Loki replied. “We experience birth and death, injury and sickness, just like humans. Asgardians are essentially extremely sturdy, long-lived humans who have access to higher technology and magic.”

“And you?”

Loki lowered his gaze. “I’m a Frost Giant, or so Odin tells me. To be honest, I’m not entirely sure that I’m fully Frost Giant. I haven’t all the features, you see.”

Sherlock observed Loki and noted the young man’s embarrassment. _Must be a touchy topic for him. Best to stay away from it then._

Just then, Steve stopped in front of a plain white door. He held a card in front of the scanner on the doorframe, and the door unlocked. Pushing it open, he ushered Sherlock inside. “Nobody lives here, but we keep this room furnished for guests just in case.”

“Clearly,” Sherlock breathed, grateful for the sense of normalcy the room provided. The warmth of the mahogany furniture and the brown textiles gave off a soothing air that calmed the young detective’s nerves. He sighed, the exhaustion from the day’s events finally hitting him hard, and slumped in a nearby sofa.

“Guess I’ll leave you to it, then. Have a good rest, Mr. Holmes,” Steve said and left the room.

Sherlock stood and went over to the bed, but before he could sit down, a pile of neatly folded pajamas appeared. The young man started and stared at the clothes for a moment, then remembered Loki’s teleportation. He sensed the sorcerer’s presence in the room and turned to face him. “Thank you.”

Loki smiled. “You’re welcome, Mr. Holmes.”

“Sherlock, please.” Sherlock couldn’t help but smile as well. Loki chuckled.

“Very well then, as you wish.” He sobered. “We’ll find a way to help you, Sherlock. You have my word that I will not stop until the Aether is free from your body.”

Sherlock nodded. “Thank you,” he repeated.

Loki smiled again and vanished.

Sherlock glanced at the pajamas. It was so late it was probably tomorrow, and he was so _very_ tired and confused. He dressed and slipped under the covers, and within seconds he had fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep, the events and cares of the previous day entirely forgotten.


	3. Avenging Intervention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock learns a little more about this team he's been taken to and the artifact that he accidentally absorbed. And calls John, who apparently has meta-universe info, because right now he's feeling a little off-kilter.
> 
> Also, his relationship with Loki is turning in a weirdly fluffy direction.

Warm sunlight greeted Sherlock as he opened his eyes. He blinked and rolled over to check the clock on the nearby nightstand. _10:43_ _? That’s odd. Why don’t I hear John and Mrs. Hudson up and about?_ He sat up and rubbed his eyes, yawning. As he stretched and looked around, he realized — _I’m not in my room. This isn’t my room. I’m not in 221B anymore. Why is that?_

Then the events of the previous night came crashing down on him, and he gasped, falling back onto the pillows. _Teleportation. Magic. Avengers. Aether. Oh, goodness, I’m going to have a panic attack if I don’t stop. I can’t believe it. I don’t believe it. All of it is real - or am I dreaming or drugged? I still can’t tell. It feels so real, though._ He glanced down at his arm and shuddered at the flash of red running through his veins.

_Pain. A pain stimulus should snap me out of this._ Sherlock got up and searched the room for a sharp object. He found a razor in the adjoining bathroom and held it to the tip of his finger. Just as he touched the instrument to his skin, the red energy exploded from his body, knocking the razor out of his hand and slamming him into the bathroom wall. The young man fell to the floor and lay there on his stomach, dazed and bruised. The world swirled around him as he fought to stay conscious, and black spots danced before his eyes.

“ —lock?— all ri— Sher— can— hear me?”

Sherlock moaned and opened his eyes. Loki peered at him, his face white with concern. “Are you all right? Can you hear me, Sherlock?”

“Y… yes. Yes, I… I can.”

“What happened?”

Sherlock coughed, his throat dry. Loki held a cup of water to his lips, and the brunette sipped at the cool liquid. When he finished, Loki vanished the cup.

“Were… were you trying to hurt yourself?”

Sherlock’s lip trembled at the fear in the other’s tone. He sniffled. “I was only trying to make sure I wasn’t… dreaming.” His voice quivered and tears dripped onto his cheeks.

“Oh, Sherlock! Oh, you poor thing!” Loki scooped the weeping detective in his arms and held him close. “Shhh. It’s all right-“

“No, it’s _not!_ I don’t know what’s happening to me, and I can’t keep a proper grip on my emotions!” Sherlock blubbered. “And John’s worried sick about me, and I’m not even in London anymore, and I don’t know what to _do!_ ” he wailed.

Loki stroked his curly hair thoughtfully. “Well… you _have_ been under an enormous amount of stress in a very short time, and you’re out of your depth. Plus, you’re carrying a very powerful and dangerous artifact within your body, so I wouldn’t be surprised if you couldn’t keep your emotions under control. I think you need time to process all this — which unfortunately I don’t think you’ll get until we’ve extracted the Aether from you.”

Sherlock looked up at the young sorcerer with big, wet glasz eyes. “Why does it do this?” he whispered.

“Hm? Why does what do this?”

“Why does the Aether protect me? Why does it weaken me when it protects me?”

“Oh.” Loki’s face fell. “Well— you see— the Aether is a… um… parasite. It’s not necessarily protecting you—“

“—it’s protecting itself,” Sherlock finished. “It feeds off of my energy… and the longer it stays in my body—“

“—the closer it comes to killing you.”

Sherlock breathed a shaky gasp, the urgency of the situation hitting him.

“I’m going to die.”

“Not if we can take the Aether out,” the raven replied. “I know how to do it, but we need something to contain it. The Aether was made to turn matter into dark matter—“ Sherlock’s eyes widened with horror, “—it won’t do that to you until after you die, though,” he reassured him. “But in order to prevent it from possessing someone else, we need a special type of containment device. Thor’s going to Asgard today to retrieve one, so it’s mostly a matter of waiting for him to return. That being said, you need to rest as much as you can to preserve your strength.”

Sherlock bit his lip and nodded. “I see. That makes sense.”

Loki smiled. “All right. If you don’t need anything else, I suppose I’ll see if I can find you some breakfast. Oh! I almost forgot!” He handed something to Sherlock, who took it.

“My phone!” He pressed the power button, and the screen lit up. “It’s charged up! How did you—”

The sorcerer chuckled. “I found it dead in your coat pocket last night and gave it to Tony so he could fix it. My brother tells me he’s a genius with Midgardian technology.” He shrugged. “I know phones are a popular means of communication in your realm, so I thought you might need it to contact your friend.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

Loki stood and helped Sherlock up, then turned to leave when Sherlock stopped him. “Why are you being so kind to me? I mean, I appreciate your help, but we’ve only just met and we barely know each other. You don’t seem to be a particularly extroverted type of person, so why are you so friendly with me?”

Loki cocked his head in thought. “I’m not exactly certain myself. I do know, however, that I wanted to help you when I saw you were in trouble. I also feel that, given time and the ability to know each other, we might become great friends. After all,” he gazed deep into Sherlock’s eyes, “I see a bit of myself in you.”

Sherlock smiled. “Funny… I hadn’t thought of that, but I believe you’re right.”

Loki nodded. “All right, then. I’ll be off to get your breakfast.” And with that, he disappeared.

 

* * *

 

Sherlock stood with his eyes rooted to the spot where the sorcerer had been moments before, then shook himself. _I’m going to have to get used to that while I’m here,_ he thought. _I wonder, how exactly does he do it? A talisman? Or just his mind?_ His phone lit up, interrupting his train of thought with a notification saying he had several missed calls and voicemails. _Oh. Right. John._ He dialed the familiar number and listened as it rang.

“Sherlock?! Thank God!”

“John! Oh, you have no idea how good it feels to hear your voice!”

“I could say the same thing to you! Are you all right? Are you hurt? Where are you?”

“Well, first off: what time is it there?”

John paused. “Three in the afternoon. Why? Oh, wait, don’t tell me. You got kidnapped and shipped across the pond.”

“Not exactly—“

“Then what happened?”

Sherlock closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Oh, John, it’s all so complicated and you wouldn’t believe a word of what I have to tell you.”

“Try me.”

So the brunette plunged into his story, covering every event as thoroughly as he could. When he finished, he took a breath and waited for John’s response.

“So let me get this straight. You’re in New York with the Avengers because the artifact that was responsible for tearing up part of Greenwich during the Convergence decided to take up residence in your body, _and_ they brought a crazy murderer in to take said artifact out.” He sighed. “Only you could get into such a scrape, Sherlock.”

“Wait, I don’t understand. What Convergence? What do you mean, crazy murderer? They’re not—“

“ _Loki_ , Sherlock? Honestly, sometimes I think you watch the telly at the wrong times. Don’t you remember back in 2012? You know, the big mess with the Chitauri and everything?”

“No…” the younger man murmured. “Although… I vaguely recall Mycroft at the time saying SHIELD was having great difficulty keeping a disaster in New York under wraps. And that a raging psychopath had been the cause of the tragedy, but he’d been brought under federal restraint or something like that. I don’t know.”

“You don’t?”

“I was in rehab, John, trying to get off drugs.”

“Oh… I’m sorry, I didn’t know. Well, the raging psychopath you mentioned? That was Loki.”

“That can’t be! There’s no way he could be mentally unstable! He actually acts… relatively normal, now that I think about it. Except for the magic, but he’s a sorcerer, so that hardly makes a difference. The point is, he’s been so kind to me and protected me—“

“But he could be luring you in. I mean, he’s not called the god of lies and mischief for nothing; I swear he’s got a secret agenda for being there. I don’t want him taking over your mind, Sherlock. Ugh, just thinking about it gives me shivers!”

“He’s capable of mind control?”

“Well, no, he had a staff with the Mind Stone mounted on it—“

“—which is currently set in the forehead of the red-skinned Avenger.” Sherlock’s mind worked at warp speed. “But he was afraid of the Mind Stone when he saw it. That must mean that, if what you say is true and he _was_ behind the New York attack, he was mind-controlled by someone else and therefore not responsible for his actions.”

“Huh. I think I’ve seen that theory on the Internet before. In that case, you might not have to worry about him then.”

“I _know_ I don’t have to worry about him, John.”

“Promise me you’ll be careful anyway?”

“I promise.”

Sherlock said goodbye and hung up. He finished up in the loo and headed back into the bedroom, where he dressed in his now-clean clothes that had been left on the bed for him. Just as he was done, a knock sounded on the door. “Come in.”

Loki entered with a tray balanced in his hands. “Here. You must be famished.”

Sherlock’s stomach rumbled. Both men looked at each other and laughed. “I think you’re right.”

As the young detective tucked in, Loki twiddled his thumbs. “When you’re done, I want you to come with me and meet the Avengers. Properly, this time.”

Sherlock gave him a wry smile at that. “I suppose. I’m afraid, however, that my social skills are very much lacking, as John is fond of telling me every so often.”

“Whereas I have no shortage of social skills, but they’re essentially useless to me because everyone’s afraid of me.”

“Aren’t we a pair,” Sherlock muttered. They laughed again, though Sherlock made a mental note to ask Loki about New York later.

“Well, if you’ve finished, then shall we?” Loki vanished the remains of breakfast, and together the two set off through the compound.

 

* * *

 

“Hey there, Reindeer Games,” Tony greeted the two from the bar as they entered the lounge. He gestured to Sherlock. “I haven’t figured out a nickname for you yet, but it’ll come to me eventually.”

“He gives nicknames to everyone?” Sherlock whispered to Loki.

“Apparently. Though I haven’t the faintest idea what ‘Reindeer Games’ means; Thor says it’s partly because of my ridiculous ceremonial helmet.”

Sherlock glanced at the sorcerer, who contrary to last night’s getup wore a suit much like his own, save for the black tie and green-and-gold scarf. “I see.”

“Loki tells me you need to get acquainted with our little crew?” Tony cut in as he poured himself a scotch. Sherlock nodded. “Well, first off, I’m Tony Stark, aka Iron Man. And the team’s resident genius-playboy-billionaire-philanthropist, to boot. You’ve already met Captain America, right?” The man in question gave a courteous nod from his seat on a nearby sofa. “The assassin over there is Clint Barton, Hawkeye.”

“Hey.”

“Hello,” Sherlock replied.

Tony continued, “And that’s Natasha Romanov, the Black Widow, next to him. Next to her is Dr. Bruce Banner, the Hulk. The android’s Vision.”

“ _Android??_ ” Sherlock gazed at the red Avenger with newfound curiosity. “Really?”

“Yes, Mr. Holmes,” Vision answered. “Pleasure to formally meet you.”

“Thank you. I think.”

Just then the Eastern European woman entered the room. “Stark? You called for a team meeting?”

“‘Eyyy, Wanda! Just in time,” Tony exclaimed. “Holmes, this is Wanda Maximoff, the Scarlet Witch. She and Vision are the two newest members of the team. Hey, guys, now that everybody’s here, we can plan out what we’re gonna do next.” He motioned to the half-ring of sofas. “Go ahead and have a seat,” he told Sherlock and Loki.

They sat, Loki choosing the seat furthest from Vision. Sherlock mentally frowned. _He’s still fearful of the Mind Stone,_ he mused. _I really_ ** _must_** _ask him about that._

“Thor’s in Asgard getting a containment device for the Aether, so until we have it, we can’t move forward with the extraction,” Tony re-elaborated. “Bruce, do you have a lab set up so we can monitor Locksie over there?”

Sherlock groaned at the nickname. _Really, Stark?_

“Monitor?” Loki asked. “You’re only going to make sure he’s well, right? No experiments?”

“Uh…” Bruce elbowed the inventor. “Nope. No experiments at all.”

Loki frowned. “You realize how dangerous the Aether is, yes? It isn’t a plaything, Mr. Stark.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Tony waved his hand. “Turns matter into dark matter and all that crazy stuff.”

“Wait, dark matter?!” Sherlock asked, his voice panicky. “You mean I’m slowly turning into dark matter right this minute?!”

“I didn’t tell you?” Loki’s face dropped. “Oh. Oh, dear.” He buried his face in his hands.

“Is there any way to reverse the process once the Aether has been removed from his body?” Wanda queried. Loki lifted his head and regarded Sherlock.

“Once the Aether is gone, his body should return to normal fairly quickly,” he answered. “I don’t have a precise number, but it should take within a week for him to fully recover. That’s only if he’s at the point that Dr. Foster was at when the Aether was removed from her body.”

“And how long did she have the Aether in her?” Bruce asked.

“About two days, if I recall correctly. My memories from that period are still a bit foggy, I’m afraid.”

“And Sherlock’s already had the Aether in him for how long?” questioned Natasha.

“Since around four pm London time, so at least over twenty-four hours,” the young detective replied, his voice wobbling. “And it’s ‘protected’ me three times in that timeframe.”

“It protected Jane only twice, I think,” Loki mused.

“So Sherlock is worse off than Dr. Foster,” Tony stated. “That means Thor needs to get here by tomorrow morning at the latest in order for us to be able to save him.”

Sherlock blanched and felt sick, his thoughts running a mile a minute. _I need to get out of here, I need some fresh air._ “If you’ll excuse me for a moment.” He stood up and turned to leave.

That’s when his whole world tilted onto its side. Someone cried his name, and Sherlock reached out towards the voice. Then he was lying on the ground in Loki’s lap with the Avengers surrounding him, worried looks on all their faces. Sherlock blinked to clear the fuzziness from his mind. “What… what happened?”

“You collapsed,” Steve replied. “We thought you were gonna faint for a minute there.”

“The Aether is draining his strength quicker than normal,” Loki reported. Red glimmered in the veins in Sherlock’s hand, and the young detective looked up at his new friend with fear in his eyes.

Tony stood up. “Get him to the lab. He doesn’t have much time left.”


	4. HYDRA, Meet Aether

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HYDRA, being the idiotic and reckless organization it is, decides to come knocking on the Compound door. Sherlock makes like a hero and fights back. Which might be a bad idea.
> 
> Seriously, why can't villains use their imaginations?

Sherlock glanced up as Tony entered the lab-turned-ICU. “Nothing?”

“Nope. Nada.” The inventor rubbed his temples. “Honestly, what’s taking Point Break so long?”

“It’s possible he might have run into a snag,” Loki answered from Sherlock’s bedside, “though I can’t think of anything at the moment that would go wrong.”

“This isn’t good. Locksie’s been stuck with the Aether for three days now. We’re running out of time.” Tony went over to one of the screens and started fiddling with it. “FRIDAY, any thoughts on how to contain an Infinity Stone?”

“I’m afraid it would take some time to construct a sufficient containment device, sir.” The inventor muttered something under his breath. “But we have another problem. Sensors have detected unauthorized entry on the compound grounds.”

Sherlock sighed. “What, an enemy about to attack us?”

Tony glanced at another holoscreen. “It’s HYDRA. They’re probably after the Asgardian goop.”

“Oh, how perfectly textbook.” The brunette rolled his eyes. “Can’t criminals employ their imaginations?”

“That would be encouraging them. Which we’re trying _not_ to do. FRIDAY, how’s our defenses looking?”

“I think it would be wise for you and the others to make an appearance, sir.”

“So not so good. Loki, stay here and, I dunno, protect Sherlock or something. I may or may not send Wanda to join you guys.” With that, the genius dashed out of the room.

Sherlock closed his eyes and sank back into the pillows. He could feel the Aether sapping his strength, and he’d been sleeping for most of the day to conserve his energy. John’s phone call this morning had lifted his spirits a bit, if only a little, but it didn’t change the fact that he was stuck in this nightmare and might not make it through to the end. _If only I hadn’t taken the disappearance case in the first place. But how was I to know that it would turn out like this?_

He must have dozed off for a few minutes because when he woke, the room was empty. He frowned. _Odd. I thought someone was supposed to protect me. Perhaps HYDRA is overwhelming them._

“FRIDAY, did Loki and Wanda leave to give backup to the other Avengers?” The AI answered in the affirmative.

“I’ve sealed the lab off from the rest of the facility, but in case that fails to hold off HYDRA’s forces, I’ve also established a number of escape routes for you to use, sir.”

“Then now would probably be the best time to use one of them.” Sherlock sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “I wouldn’t want to be at HYDRA’s mercy if they broke into the lab.”

“That’s extremely risky, Mr. Holmes. What if HYDRA captured you before you made it out?”

Sherlock glanced down at his hands and beheld the familiar glow of deadly crimson running through his vessels. _I wonder…._

“Sir, the HYDRA troops have made it to the barrier and are in the process of attempting entry into the lab. If you’re going to take action, I suggest you do it quickly.”

“What?! They’re here _now?_ But they weren’t a moment ago! Where on earth are the Avengers?!”

“Trying to get them away from the lab. It’s really quite messy out there.”

“Oh. Are the air ducts available?”

“You should be able to make it through them without much difficulty.”

“Well, then. In that case…”

 

* * *

 

As safe as the ventilation ducts might be, they made Sherlock extremely claustrophobic, and he exited them as soon as he was a safe distance from the battle around the lab. He lay on the floor, exhausted. _I don’t know how much more of this I can take. I could die very soon from this._ That thought alone frightened him, and he struggled to stand up. But he froze as voices drifted down the hall.

“Energy signature is rising.”

“Remember to shoot on sight.”

_They’re going to kill me to get the Aether!_ Horrified, Sherlock got up and turned to run. At that moment, several HYDRA soldiers marched into the hall.

“He’s got the artifact! Fire!”

_Now or never…_ Sherlock flung his arms out towards the troops, and rosy darkness shot out, piercing the invaders. Gunfire sounded behind him, and he turned, crossing his arms front of his face as a red shield formed and halted the advancement of the bullets. A few of the men dropped, then a few more, then the rest slumped to the floor.

“Sherlock! Oh, thank Valhalla you’re all right!”

“Loki?! Wanda?” Sherlock widened his eyes as the two rounded the corner. Without warning, his vision went black. When it cleared, he stared up at Loki, who held the young detective in his arms. The sorcerer frowned.

“Sherlock, we have to get the Aether out of you now! You could die any moment!”

“Loki—“ Wanda interjected.

“Go! They brought a containment device with them, it must be around here somewhere!” Sherlock closed his eyes as Loki laid him on the floor, his strength gone. He opened them again when he felt the Aether leaving his body and looked over at Loki, who pulled the substance out with his magic. “Wanda, I need it now!”

“Here!” Wanda ran back to them with the HYDRA container. Loki pushed the Aether towards her, but instead of responding to him, the fluid flowed around him and circled him, leaving a gleaming red gem suspended in midair. Loki gasped as the Aether lifted him into the air.

“No, stop! This isn’t supposed to happen! Put me down!” The ravenette struggled against the Aether’s influence in vain. Then the gem flew toward him and planted itself squarely in his forehead. The Aether shot into him and consumed him in a brilliant ruby flash. Sherlock covered his eyes…

When he uncovered them and glanced in Loki’s direction, he gasped at the sight of the unconscious prince lying on the floor, his outfit having transformed into gorgeous robes of black and red. On his head sat a silver diadem at the center of which glowed the red Infinity Stone. Overwhelmed by his exhaustion and the combination of the events occurring the past few days, he succumbed to dark nothingness.

 

* * *

 

“Can’t believe he made it out alive.”

“I can’t believe they _both_ made it out alive. I mean, sure, Reindeer Games is practically a god, but his vitals shouldn’t be looking this good right now.”

Sherlock opened his eyes. Wanda greeted him from her seat next to his hospital bed. “It’s good to see you awake, Mr. Holmes.”

“Thank you, Miss Maximoff. It’s good to be awake.” He frowned as his memories righted themselves. “Is Loki all right? Did they get the Aether out of him?”

“I’m right here, Sherlock.” The brunette turned his head to his left to find Loki in a similar bed. The prince smiled. “I’m glad you’re alive and well. Dr. Banner says you should be good as new in a couple days.”

“How long have I been unconscious?” Sherlock wondered.

“Around a week or so, same as me. I actually just woke up this morning.”

“And the Aether? Did they extract it from you?”

Loki’s brow furrowed. “About that… The Reality Stone, the one that was powering the Aether, has permanently fused with me, so if they _were_ to attempt an extraction, I would most likely die.”

“But isn’t it killing you as we speak?!” Sherlock’s voice rose in fear. “You said yourself that the Aether turns matter into dark matter!”

“That was the Aether, not the Reality Stone. Tony and Bruce were actually just discussing how good my system looks.” He looked down and murmured, “That can mean only one thing….”

“What _does_ it mean?” asked Wanda. “Are you compatible with the Reality Stone, and so it doesn’t kill you like it would others?”

“If that’s so, then that sheds things in an entirely new light,” interjected a familiar voice. Loki’s eyes widened.

“Thor! You’re finally back!”

“I’ve been here all day, silly.” Thor tousled his little brother’s hair. “I actually arrived the day HYDRA attacked. Imagine my irritation when I found out you’d transferred the Aether into yourself!”

“That wasn’t my intention, honest! It disobeyed me and forced itself into me!” Loki protested. Thor laughed.

“I know. I’m just teasing. I’m surprised, however, that it chose you like that. It means that… you’re an Infinity Prince. The Reality Prince, to be exact.”

Loki and Sherlock gasped. “You mean there are certain individuals who are compatible with these Infinity Stones?” Sherlock queried. Thor nodded.

“There are six total Infinity Stones: Mind, Space, Power, Reality, Time, and Soul. Legend has it that these artifacts each created an individual who would be the only one able to fully wield the power of their respective Infinity Stone. As such, there are six people, or Infinity Princes, who exist solely to guard and utilize the stones so that villains and evildoers cannot access the immense power the gems hold. It appears that Loki is the Infinity Prince for the Reality Stone.”

“You’ve been reading up, haven’t you,” Loki murmured. Tony, who’d been listening to the conversation, spoke up.

“That actually explains a lot about Reindeer Games, now that I think about it.”

Sherlock’s eyes widened. “Of course! He’s not a Frost Giant after all! His powers changed his body to make him appear to be one as a survival tactic!”

“And that’s why I turn into a Frost Giant only when I touch one or the Casket of Ancient Winters!” Loki added. “I don’t believe it! I’m an Infinity Prince!” Tears of joy streamed down his cheeks as Thor embraced him. Sherlock smiled, elated for his friend.

“Well then, don’t you think a celebration is in order?” he suggested.

Tony pointed a pen at the young Brit. “ _You_ need to get well first, mister.”

“So does Loki,” Sherlock retorted. The inventor shrugged.

“Yeah, why not. You two helped us kick HYDRA’s butt, anyway.” Tony pointed the pen at both of them. “But no more near-death experiences! We already have enough to deal with those as part of our job!”

 

* * *

 

Sherlock stayed another week at the compound, and during that week he got to meet more of the Avengers and those who worked with them. He didn’t mind Sam Wilson, the sassy, don’t-give-a-damn Falcon; or James “Rhodey” Rhodes, the War Machine; or Scott Lang, the Ant-Man and one of the newest recruits; and he ended up striking up a surprising friendship with James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, the Winter Soldier and Steve’s best friend from before World War II. Loki had had the idea that Vision, using the Mind Stone, could help Bucky remove HYDRA’s brainwashing, and so far it seemed to be working.

“I know I’ve been catching up with Steve, but I don’t want you to leave just yet,” Bucky told the young detective as they strode down the corridors of the facility. “You’re always so passionate when you talk about your work, and it makes me want to be passionate about mine.”

“Well, I think you’ll get an opportunity for that if you join the Avengers,” said Sherlock. “Instead of using your skills to hurt people, you can use them to help.”

“Yep, that’s exactly what I want to do.” Bucky paused a moment. “How are you and Loki doing? You two are getting real chummy, aren’t you?”

“Jealous?”

“Nah, I’ve got Steve. He’ll always be my best friend, that punk.” They laughed. “But seriously, it’s good to see he has friends. Thor told me Loki didn’t really have any growing up alongside him. Wanda and you have this camaraderie with him, though, so I’m glad. You all have a lot in common.”

Sherlock smiled. “I think as far as friends go, Loki ranks up there with John. I’ve never met someone with such an interesting combination of heart and mind as he has. We see a lot of ourselves in each other, I believe.”

Bucky snickered. “Soulmates,” he muttered.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “I’m fairly certain those don’t exist.”

“Only fairly certain?”

Bucky laughed as Sherlock raised his eyebrows. “I blame magic.”

“Magic’s a good thing, Sherlock,” retorted Loki, teleporting beside the Brit. Sherlock sighed.

“I suppose you’re right.”

When they reached the helipad, Loki turned to Sherlock and held him in a fierce embrace. The two stood, arms around each other, for a good minute or so before releasing.

“I promise I’ll visit,” said Loki. Sherlock nodded.

“If you ever need my help, just let me know.”

“Stay in contact!” Tony yelled as Sherlock entered the Quinjet. “You’re fun to talk to, you know!”

The young brunette waved to his friends as the aircraft took off. All through the flight, he couldn’t help but wonder when he would see Loki and the others again. _They offered to make me a consultant for the Avengers…. but John and I still have Moriarty to deal with. I can’t stop until his network is gone and he lands in prison. To know that he also faked his death…_

He touched down in London around ten pm and met John at the airport. “Sherlock!” The overjoyed doctor wrapped him up in a bear hug, which he returned just as fervently. “I missed you so much! I mean, two and a half weeks in America? It doesn’t sound very long, but it sure felt that way!”

Sherlock laughed. “It’s good to be home again. I’ll miss my new friends, but Loki’s promised to visit in between missions. I think you’ll like him, John. He’s a lot like me in many respects.”

“Is it bad that I’m more concerned about the state of the flat _after_ he visits than about the visits themselves?” John muttered. Sherlock grinned.

“I’m sure his powers could easily clean and repair 221B if we ever got up to any mischief, John,” he replied.

Back at Baker Street, Mrs. Hudson hugged the brunette as soon as he stepped inside. “Oh, Sherlock! We were so worried about you! It’s so good to have you back!”

“Glad to _be_ back, Mrs. Hudson. John kept you updated, I assume?”

“Of course he did! It must’ve been frightening to have to deal with everything you went through!” she answered as they entered 221B’s sitting room. “I know I would be at the end of my wits if I suddenly had a parasitic artifact stuck in my body!”

Sherlock gave a wry smile. “It was… definitely not something I would do again. But thanks to that incident, I managed to find friends in the Avengers.”

“That’s just wonderful, Sherlock! I’m so glad you got to meet others like you. Here, I’ll get you some of that casserole I saved from earlier. John, if you could put the kettle on? You must be knackered after that plane ride, Sherlock.”

“I’m fine, Mrs. Hudson, really,” the young man protested. But the landlady insisted that he sit and rest, so he complied. John brought him tea and Mrs. Hudson came up a few minutes later with a plate of hot casserole, both of which he accepted gratefully. Truth be told, Sherlock _was_ worn out after the long flight, so when he finished his supper he headed straight for bed.

That night, he dreamed of silver magic and six gems, one for each color of the rainbow. When he awoke the next morning, he’d forgotten about the dream and went about his business as usual.

He couldn’t have predicted what happened next.


	5. Consequences of Being Possessed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weird things start happening to Sherlock. Like, really weird things. The Reality Stone is obviously at fault for his dreams and silvery visions. Question is, is this a good thing or a bad thing?
> 
> Also, Mycroft is a jerk for taking away that case. Really, dude?

Two days after Sherlock returned from America, Mycroft visited 221B. The younger Holmes narrowed his eyes as the familiar footsteps sounded in the hallway. A moment later, the British government himself stood in the doorway to the sitting room.

Sherlock gave him the usual once-over. “Hmm, new diet not working out for you, I see. Pity, you were doing so well, too.”

“If you’re going to continue, I may have to confiscate more than what I came for, brother mine.”

“More?” Sherlock frowned, then blanched in horror. “You’re not taking the Moriarty case from me, are you? You can’t! John and I have been working for months on his network and his whereabouts—“

“I’m not talking about Moriarty, Sherlock, I’m talking about Amora!” Mycroft retorted. “As of today, SHIELD has dedicated a strike team to apprehend her and bring her in. Anyone who interferes will deal with severe consequences.”

Sherlock gasped. “Are you insane?! That woman is too powerful for ordinary humans! Let the Avengers deal with her, they have the ability and the resources!”

“The government wants to keep the Avengers out of it. They’re already considered dangerous after the Sokovia incident, and might I add the New York and Washington debacles didn’t help their image much, either. The government doesn’t trust them to capture Amora with as little collateral damage as possible.”

“You mean _you_ don’t trust them. Don’t you see that not calling the Avengers in will only increase the chances of higher collateral damage? And why are you so against them but not SHIELD?”

“SHIELD is an international organization, you _know_ that. The Avengers are American-based, in contrast.”

“SHIELD doesn’t know how to deal with Amora! Let the team with the Asgardians go after her because she’s an Asgardian herself! They should have more than enough of a chance of capturing her without inflicting that much destruction!”

“Sherlock, this subject is closed to debate! We’ve already made our decision, and it will stand as is!”

Furious, Sherlock felt something powerful rise up in him. In his mind’s eye, he saw the flat in ruins and Mycroft lying dead at his feet. Silver swirled around him and hung in the air—

“Sherlock!”

John’s yell snapped the young man back to his senses. He blinked, then glanced at the doctor. “What?”

“Tell you later.” John smoothed over his alarmed expression, but Sherlock could tell he was still unnerved. Frowning, he turned to Mycroft.

“If SHIELD fails to bring Amora in—“

“They will not,” Mycroft cut him off. “Their team is known to be the best at handling enhanced beings. Trust me, Sherlock, you’ll be glad we did it this way.”

Sherlock glared at his brother’s retreating back as the politician left. Once he was out of earshot, he muttered, “If only he was more like Thor, perhaps I could actually stand him.”

“…Umm, Sherlock? Are you okay?”

“Hmm?” He looked at John. “I’m fine, John, really.”

“You sure? Because your eyes flashed. Literally flashed, like with light.” Sherlock gave him a disbelieving look. “They glowed silver, just for a second. I almost thought you were going to rip Mycroft apart.”

Sherlock recalled the odd rush and the accompanying vision with a start. “I-I—I think I thought so too,” he admitted. He stumbled and sat in his chair, shaken and breathless. John peered at him, even more concerned.

“You don’t look so good.”

Sherlock opened his mouth to reply but could not find the words to do so. After a minute he spoke. “I saw something.”

John raised an eyebrow. “You did? See what?”

The brunette bit his lip. “I saw… I saw the flat destroyed. And M-Mycroft dead…” He shook his head. “I don’t know what happened….”

John furrowed his brow in thought. “Didn’t you say the Aether turns matter into dark matter? What if it... I don’t know, made you darker? More evil, I mean?”

Sherlock felt all the blood drain from his face. “No… no, that couldn’t… that’s not how it works. At least, I don’t think so. Loki never mentioned anything like that.”

“Well, you might want to call him up and ask him. If the Aether left any negative aftereffects, we need to know about them.”

“R-Right.” Sherlock fumbled for his phone, but he couldn’t keep the image of a wrecked flat and dead Mycroft out of his head.

_I hope I’m not going mad. Or worse, turning evil._

 

* * *

 

Needless to say, Sherlock was relieved when Loki showed up the next day in the flat. He hugged his friend, who returned the hug with fervor.

“I send you back to England for three days and you manage to get into trouble in that little time?” the ravenette quipped. John scoffed.

“This is Sherlock we’re talking about, you know.”

Loki chuckled. “Point taken. I’m unfortunately a bit of a trouble magnet myself. It’s not that I go looking for it, it’s that _it_ goes looking for _me_.”

The three laughed, and Sherlock ushered Loki into the sitting room. Once they were seated and served tea, Loki broached the subject that had brought him to the flat. “So you think you might be experiencing side effects from the Aether’s parasitism?”

“There’s no other way to explain it. John says my eyes flashed silver, and I myself felt something rising up in me. And then there’s the vision, for lack of a better word.”

Loki frowned. “Unfortunately the only other being who was inhabited by the Aether and lived other than you, Dr. Foster, and myself was Malekith, the ruler of the Dark Elves. According to the Avengers, Malekith came here to England to use the Aether in the Convergence.”

“Stark mentioned that when I first arrived,” Sherlock mused. “John told me the Convergence is an event in which the Nine Realms align such that the boundaries between them vanish and beings can go from realm to realm.”

“Malekith wanted to use the Aether to plunge the realms in darkness like they were at the beginning of time,” Loki added. “You can see how limited our data is. Others who tried to use the Aether died soon after it entered their bodies. You’re the first besides Malekith to use it and survive, so it’s possible the artifact changed something in you as a result.”

“But we don’t know exactly what?” Sherlock sighed. A saddening thought occurred to him. “Loki… if I… turn evil, you’ll lock me up, yes?”

“I—“

“Promise?”

After a beat, Loki nodded. “I promise.” He bit his lip. “But I want to make sure it doesn’t come to that. Why don’t you wait a couple days and send me updates of everything unusual that happens? Perhaps then we can make a decision about what to do next.”

“That’s a sound idea,” agreed John. “How about it, Sherlock?”

The young detective lowered his head. “I don’t have anything else to go on for now. We might as well.”

As Loki left, he couldn’t help but worry whether he was already too far gone.

 

* * *

 

  _The man approaches the teenage boy, who screams in fright and backs up against the brick wall behind him. “Please, sir, don’t hurt me!” the boy pleads as the middle-aged man raises a knife. Cries of pain sound through the alleyway. “Police! Police!” the attacker yells and drops the knife by the boy’s unconscious form, ripping his leather gloves off and slipping them into his pockets. Yardies surround the scene, and the attacker blends in, answering the cops’ questions with lies while paramedics tend to the boy and silver floats in the air—_

Sherlock gasped and bolted awake, trembling. He stared ahead at his wall, remnants of his nightmare replaying in his mind’s eye.

_What… what happened?_

Frowning and wrapping his arms around himself, the brunette pieced through the dream. _I don’t recall anything like this occurring in any of my cases. Or ever, in that case._ He waited until his shivering had stopped, then reached for his phone and fired off a text to Loki informing him of his nightmare. Then he put the device back and lay down, drifting off to sleep.

 

* * *

 

Poke poke. “Sherlock, wake up.”

“Mmph.”

“Lestrade called with a new case.”

“He did?!” Sherlock shot up and fumbled for his phone. _One new text from Loki._ “Did he say where?”

John rattled off the details while the younger man raced to shower, dress, and brush his teeth. Then the duo left the flat and took a cab to the crime scene.

“‘Ello, freak,” Donovan greeted them as the two walked up to the police tape. Sherlock ignored her comment, brushing past her, and stared down the alleyway in confusion.

_I… I know this place. I’ve seen it before._ Sherlock blanched as he recalled his nightmare from last night. The alley fit the one in his dream, complete with knife and puddle of blood where the boy had been stabbed. He glanced at the officers at the other end of the alley and beheld a balding, middle-aged man conversing with him. _He’s still here! Wait! I don’t have any evidence to convict him yet! Damn it!_ He frowned and closed his eyes.

The knife flashed in his mind, and he gasped, opening his eyes. _The handle! Of course! He wore gloves, but…_ Sherlock pulled on a pair of latex gloves and walked over to the knife. He knelt down and picked it up, noting the soft rubber that covered the handle as well as the imprint of distinctive stitching left in the rubber.

“The knife doesn’t doesn’t have anything, he wore gloves.” The young detective looked up at a rather smug Anderson. “Can’t wizard your way out of this one now, can you.”

Sherlock stood. “You’re right. He did wear gloves.” He strode towards the group in front of him, still carrying the knife. “Sir, might I take a look at your gloves?”

The culprit frowned. “My gloves?”

“Yes, your gloves, do I really need to repeat myself?”

The other officers frowned at him as the middle-aged murderer stammered. “I-I don’t quite understand why you need to look at my gloves, kid. Are your fingers cold?”

Sherlock sighed. “Will someone dig them out of his pockets before I do it myself?”

“Easy, kiddo. Here.” The man reached into his right breast pocket and pulled out a black leather glove. Sherlock took it and examined it.

“Where’s the left one?”

“The left one? You need that one too?” Sweat beaded on the man’s brow. “You know, kid, my friend lent me those, so I’m gonna want them back when you’re done.” He dug in his pocket. “Wait. That’s right, I left the other one by accident. My mistake. Sorry, kiddo.”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. “Search his pockets. I know he still has the left one.” The officers froze, so the young man, rolling his eyes, thrust his hand into the culprit’s outside left pocket. “Bingo!” He held up the glove for the others to see. “You see this here?” He pointed to a set of uneven stitches along the seam between the thumb and the palm. “If you look at the knife, there’s an imprint that matches this stitching.”

The officers gaped at the knife, then the glove, then the man, who made to rush at Sherlock. Fortunately, the officers caught the man before he could reach the brunette. Sherlock slipped away from the arrest and headed back to John, who gave the detective a quizzical glance.

“That guy was the murderer?”

“Yep.”

John narrowed his eyes. “Even I’m having a hard time figuring out how you cracked that. I mean, yeah, only other person on the scene, but…” he trailed off as Sherlock stared at the crime scene.

“Sherlock?”

“Yes?” The younger man perked up at the sound of his name.

John sighed. “We’re talking about this when we get home.”

 

* * *

 

_It was a vision, I got called on the case this morning. —SH_

_So you saw it before it happened?_

_Yes. —SH_

_Okay. Keep me posted._

 

* * *

 

“D’you really think that was a good idea, Sherlock?!” John yelled as the duo ran down alleyway after alleyway in an attempt to shake their angry (and very much armed) pursuers. Leave it to Sherlock to piss off the guards to one of Moriarty’s safe houses. The brunette rolled his eyes in response.

“Yes, John, I thought it would be perfectly fine to sass the big, hulking brute of a guard. Totally don’t mind dying again. At least I wasn’t the one who had the idea to _punch_ him!” Sherlock snapped.

“Oh, because it’s completely okay to let your face get smashed in. Maybe I shouldn’t be so considerate!” John retorted.

“Instead of worrying about what’s considerate, why don’t we just—“ Sherlock skidded to a stop in front of the blind end of the alley. “Oh, this was _not_ supposed to happen.”

“Sherlock?!” The young detective spun towards the entrance to the alley, his eyes widening at the sight of the guards aiming at them. On instinct, he shielded his face with his forearms, energy rushing through him.

_Ping! Ping ping ping!_

At the guards’ shouts, Sherlock lowered his arms—and stared. In front of him shimmered a silvery shield, preventing the guards from harming him and John. He glanced down at his arms and gazed in shock at the wisps of silver light twined around his hands and wrists.

_How… is this happening? I have… powers?!_

 

* * *

 

“It makes sense,” Wanda remarked. “After all, Pietro and I received our powers from the Mind Stone, so it’s not surprising that you gained powers as well.”

Having arrived at the Avengers’ compound a couple hours ago, Sherlock had immediately been taken to the labs to run tests, followed by a meeting he was currently in with the other superheroes. One positive that had come out of the tests was that the Aether hadn’t messed with his personality, so he no longer had to worry about the possibility of turning into a villain. Now he sat with the Avengers trying to decide his fate.

Tony spoke up. “I say he joins us. Give him some training, help him work out how to use his powers, he’d make a great addition. I mean, come on. We’re all thinking it, right?”

“That only works if he desires to join,” Loki cut in. “As you’re aware, he and Dr. Watson are still trying to take down the mortal criminal known as Moriarty.”

“Can’t he, what, part-time it? Y’know, be an Avenger on the side?” asked Rhodey. Scott agreed.

“Yeah, we could set up a branch in London near where he lives. Maybe you could get your ol’ brother the British government to pull a few strings?”

Sherlock sighed. “As much as it might be ideal to do both, I think that my old life ended the moment my powers manifested.” The others gave him querying looks. “I can’t just… not use my powers, you understand, and frankly I can’t think of a better way to use them. Besides, if my brother gets wind of the fact that I’m an Enhanced, he’ll lock me up and dissect every last bit of me.”

“But he’s your brother!” Thor protested.

Sherlock shook his head, a bitter smile on his lips. “He’ll do anything for his country even if it means sacrificing his family.”

“That’s…” Steve frowned. “I can’t even imagine going that far.”

Clint nodded. “Me neither. What would he use you for, anyway?”

“Probably super soldiers,” Bucky pointed out.

Tony shrugged. “That’s fair. But, you know, while I applaud you wanting to use your powers for good, you shouldn’t feel pressured to join us if you don’t want to. Hell, there’s a kid in Queens who’s been going around using his powers to help others for a couple years now, and _he’s_ not affiliated with us.”

“Yet.” Bruce smirked. “We all know you have your eye on him, Tony.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever. Point is, you don’t need to be an Avenger to do good. You could lay low or even put on a costume back in your country and help people there.”

“Or you could go all Jessica Jones and combine the two,” Sam suggested. “‘Course, we’re not tryin’ to drive you away, y’know, just give you options.”

Sherlock smiled. “That’s—thank you, really, for all the ideas. The problem is, I don’t think I can go back to consulting. I just… my eyes have been opened to this whole other fantastic world where powers are real and heroes exist.” He took a breath. “I—if you’ll let me—want to join. I know I need training, but I want to be an Avenger.”

The group of thirteen glanced among themselves, then nodded in approval. Steve smiled and held out his hand for Sherlock to shake.

“Welcome to the team.”

 

* * *

 

Over the next week, Sherlock moved in to the Avenger’s compound and began training to use his powers along with martial arts. He enjoyed sparring with Steve and respected the youthful veteran. Wanda and Loki helped him develop his abilities, and Tony came up with his Avenger alias.

“Silver Wizard! ‘Cause, you know, you’re basically Scarlet Witch but male and with silver instead of red.”

The younger brunette nodded. “Not bad. I don’t exactly have the same powers as her, but normal people won’t notice, so I suppose it works.”

“Great!” The inventor turned back to his holograms. “Now, you need some kind of armor or outfit to wear whenever you go as your super-identity. Don’t want you getting recognized as Sherlock Holmes on the battlefield, do we. That’s a nasty can o’worms we don’t need to touch, so! I’ve come up with your own specialized armor that should help channel your magic instead of interfering with it. Of course, if you don’t want that, Loki’s happy to get you fancy custom-tailored Asgardian digs.” Tony glanced back at him. “Whadd’ya think?”

Sherlock glanced down at his usual suit and closed his eyes, concentrating on his powers. Silver energy washed over him and caressed his skin. When he opened his eyes, his clothes had been replaced by a long-sleeved high-collar tunic, leggings, boots, and a belt, all silver. A diadem made of silver Celtic-knots rested on his forehead.

Tony raised his eyebrows. “That works too.”

Sherlock grinned, adrenaline and power thrumming through his veins. He couldn’t wait to join the Avengers in combat!


End file.
